


Extraction Techniques

by whumpsie_daisy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Whump Exchange, Whumpmas 2018, poe gets whumped, poor boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 11:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17160941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumpsie_daisy/pseuds/whumpsie_daisy
Summary: “Now, my dear General, I don’t see how you are going to do that without your brightest star leading the way,” a smug voice crooned as Poe Dameron slowly came to consciousness. Pain roared into life through his skull louder than an X-wing’s engine and he couldn’t suppress a wince.”After Poe Dameron finds himself in a tricky situation, it’s up to the infamous Blue Squadron to get him out. Hopefully he’ll still have all his limbs attached at the end of it all.





	Extraction Techniques

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Whumpmas everybody!
> 
> This was written for the whump exchange 2018 for whump-my-dear-watson. There’s barely any plot and all the whump but I’m likely to come back and add more comfort to the hurt later. I hope you enjoy it.

“Now, my dear General, I don’t see how you are going to do that without your brightest star leading the way,” a smug voice crooned as Poe Dameron slowly came to consciousness. Pain roared into life through his skull louder than an X-wing’s engine and he couldn’t suppress a wince. 

“Ah, speaking of, it would appear our dear little pilot has finally woken up.” A dark figure swam into view before him and Poe scowled up at it, scrambling to remember just how he’d come to be in this position, sprawled out on the floor of a grimy cantina storeroom with his wrists tied to a pipe. The details were still blurry, but Poe hazarded a guess that the information he’d been sent to retrieve didn’t exactly lead to where they’d hoped. With a grunt, he tried to wrestle himself into a more comfortable position. A spike of pain shot through his torso as the movement jarred his ribs. A vague memory of being thrown across a room came to mind and he curled in on himself. 

General Organa’s voice rattled through the communicator. “Baz, you’re making a mistake. There is no negotiating with the First Order. Let Dameron go and get out of there before your signal brings every stormtrooper in the galaxy to your location.” 

Baz sighed, “No can do, General. And seeing as you refuse to give me what I want, your flyboy here and I are going to have a nice little chat.” Suddenly a hand in his hair wrenched him back, bringing a snarl to his lips as he swallowed down any further noise. He wouldn’t give this creep the satisfaction. “Here’s how this is going to work, General,” Baz said, “for every hour that I don’t see the cash in my account, I’m going to break a finger on flyboy’s hand. See how well he can fly then.” 

Poe’s heart leapt in his throat. He began straining against the rope restraining him with new fervour. With a wicked smile, Baz came to stand over him and grabbed his wrist, wrestling the fingers on Poe’s left hand out of a fist. He glanced up at the holograph at the other end of the room and smirked. 

There was a sickening crack as agony splintered along Poe’s arm. It pulsed white hot in his hand and he groaned. Tears threatened to escape and he sucked in a breath, squashing them down with gritted teeth. He could feel General Organa’s intense gaze on him, sure and steady. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers and was surprised to see a flicker of panic there. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared though, and was replaced with a resolute look that Poe did his utmost to replicate, even with aftershocks of pain shooting through his arm. 

“Deploy team alpha,” General Organa snapped to someone out of view, her gaze never wavering in the slightest. 

Baz began to chuckle, “I knew you’d see reason, General.” 

Poe had to swallow down a snort of laughter himself, this moron knew nothing about the rebellion he was so proud of outsmarting. He didn’t recognise the coded message Organa had just given that made his captive almost cry with relief. If team alpha were being deployed, that meant that the blue squadron were already en route and likely to come bursting through the atmosphere above them any minute now. 

X-X-X-X-X

Half an hour and another broken finger later, five rebel x-wings shrieked overhead, shaking the building and knocking Baz off his feet. The sudden thrill of a fight surged through Poe’s veins and adrenaline muted all his pain to a dull ache. He yanked once more on the rope and finally heard a satisfying snap as he managed to wrench it apart. Finally free, he scrambled to his feet, clutching his left hand to his chest. He staggered towards the door just as a voice called out “Get back!” and the wall blasted inward. 

He was thrown back with such force that it could only have been a laser cannon. The infamous blue squadron: best in the extraction business but not always likely to bring the asset back in one piece. 

With a low groan, Poe elbowed himself upright and looked around. Blue squadron were in full swing, charging into the room and causing as much chaos as possible. The chaos made a good cover for one of the men to grab Poe and drag him to his feet. “Come on, Red Leader,” he shouted through the noise, “Let’s get you home.” 

The two of them scrambled out of the fray, back through the collapsed wall and out into the cold night air. They emerged from the mouth of an alley and made their way through the winding streets. Poe did his best to keep up, each breath slicing through him. Eventually, the blue squad member realised he was lagging behind and turned. “Need a break?” 

Between staggered gasps, Poe managed to nod. “Please.” 

“We’re not far now, just a couple more blocks, but we can stop for two minutes. I doubt anyone will be looking for us now, they’re gonna be a little busy back there,” his rescuer said as he ushered Poe to sit on a stack of crates that had been left over from the market. 

Now that the adrenaline of their escape was waning, Poe suddenly felt every inch of his battered body. The pain in his hand flared up and he felt the hot sting of tears well up behind his eyes. He swore and curled over on himself, tucking the injured hand in against his equally abused chest. Being catapulted across a room had done nothing for the cracked ribs he was sure to have. 

A gentle hand on his shoulder caught his attention through the fog of pain. He glanced up through tear-filled lashes to see the concerned face of another blue squadron member, a medic named Alanna, if he remembered rightly. She had stitched him up on more than one occasion in the past. “How we looking, Dameron?” She asked. 

Poe forced a grim smirk, a shadow of his usual smoulder, and shrugged. “I’ve been worse,” he said with a wince, regretting the movement. 

Alanna nodded and coaxed his hand out. “I saw the footage earlier, looks like you’re grounded for a while,” she hummed. Her careful hands began assessing the damage to his fingers, splint and gauze already in hand. She made quick work of wrapping the two broken fingers and cleaning up a couple of cuts from the blast before turning her attention to his hunched frame. “I’m afraid those ribs will have to wait until we’re back at base to be dealt with properly, but you can lean on us for now. We need to get moving, I’m afraid,” she said as her fingers skimmed across his torso. 

Taking a careful breath, Poe steadied himself and nodded, reaching out to take the woman’s shoulder and feeling the other squad member come up on his other side. He turned to his rescuer and hissed a thank you as pain shot through his ribs. Together, the three of them began their arduous journey back towards the evac-ship. The trip only took them another ten minutes, but for Poe, each step was another level of agony. 

Finally, the ship came into view, and Poe’s legs almost gave out as relief flooded through him. As soon as they were inside the shop, he felt his strength fail him and collapsed against the wall. Alanna and her friend stood nearby and let him take a moment, murmuring to each other in hushed voices. Poe couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention to what they were saying, he was tired and in pain. All he wanted was to go to sleep and not wake up until all the pain was gone. 

But a small niggling thought wormed its way to the forefront of his mind. He opened one eye and scowled up at the whispering crew. “Hey, Blue,” he called, gesturing to the young man. “I never got your name.”

“Pardon?” the man in question laughed, coming closer. 

“I wanna know the name of my intrepid rescuer,” Poe said with a lopsided grin. 

With a smile of his own, the man knelt down next to him and patted his shoulder, his chest puffing up with pride. “My name is Hanso, sir. I was named after the man who helped bring down the empire: Han Solo.”

Poe did laugh this time, knowing the smuggler from previous run-ins in open space. “Well,” he sighed, “with a name like that, you were born to be a hero.”


End file.
